


Smell

by statisticsfag



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Ficlet, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statisticsfag/pseuds/statisticsfag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short little ficlet.</p>
<p>Now also in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5223140">中文</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smell

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Smell by statisticsfag](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223140) by [zmzm007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmzm007/pseuds/zmzm007)



It was a rare thing to see all three of Mother Base’s “top brass” simultaneously in the Mess Hall. Usually their individual routines and tasks varied so much time-wise; Big Boss out on his missions, Ocelot drilling their freshly-recruited soldiers and Kaz tackling paperwork of different importance. 

But today was one of those days. Big Boss sat in his olive drabs at the end of a long table, about to start munching on his lunch of rice and chicken. A few seats down, Kaz was sitting in silence, already enjoying his coffee after his meal. 

Ocelot sauntered to the same table, greeting both members of the impromptu officer’s table, receiving one amiable and one less amiable reply. He passed behind Big Boss and stopped, sniffing the air. He set his food down on the table and kept sniffing, taking in short, loud inhales. 

“What are you doing?” asked Kaz annoyed. Big Boss only lifted an eyebrow, feeling an eerie sense of deja-vu. 

Ocelot closed in on his prey, Big Boss’s face, squinting his pale blue eyes. 

“That smell… I know it,” he mumbled, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the aroma that caught his nose’s attention. Kaz scoffed, returning to his coffee. 

“Boss, open your mouth.”

Big Boss obeyed after a quiet snort, opening his mouth wide like in a dentists chair. Ocelot pressed his face even closer to his boss’s, all the while sniffing the air, perplexed by the wafts of odor reaching his olfactory sensors. It was right there, on the tip of his tongue, the name for the peculiar smell. 

“Boss. Why does your mouth smell like _condom_?” 

Big Boss erupted in a rumbling laugh. A few seats down, Kaz choked loudly on his coffee, sputtering out the liquid red-faced.

“Surely _you_ can figure that out, Ocelot.”


End file.
